


Ashes of Eden

by Flywolf33



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Basically I'm lonely, Bullying, Cute, Dancing, Drabbles, Fistfight, Fluff, Hurt No Comfort, Implications of suicide, John is a shitty parent, Major character death - Freeform, Middle School Sam, Wholesome Interactions, aziraphale - Freeform, crowley - Freeform, dean is a good big brother, i'll add tags as i go, ineffable husbands, maybe more chapters, protective!Dean, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2020-07-27 17:15:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flywolf33/pseuds/Flywolf33
Summary: One-shots and drabbles... Will add tags and fandoms as I write them; I currently have no specific plans.  I'm going to keep this marked as completed.Will add tags/ratings/etc if/when I add chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley is thinking too much and Aziraphale decides to do something about it.
> 
> I was perfectly happy without a relationship, thank you very much. But now that I've had one... I miss it. Basically I was being a sad pringle and thinking about fluff and then I heard this song on the way to my writer's league meeting and here we are. 
> 
> Song is "Ashes of Eden" by Breaking Benjamin.

Aziraphale watched Crowley, who was slouched across the sofa and staring moodily at his wine as he swirled it in its glass. The demon had been out of sorts ever since the apocalypse-that-wasn’t; he had barely even touched his drink. The angel was worried, but he’d already asked; Crowley had refused to admit something was bothering him. He suspected he was, in some way, part of the cause for his friend’s brooding. Aziraphale knew he needed to do something to help Crowley relax and cheer him up, but the angel himself had his own concerns regarding the shift in their relationship and what ‘their side’ could mean.

Their music changed to something soft, as if the player was trying to urge Aziraphale into action. Nerves fluttered in his stomach, but the angel steeled himself. Enough was enough.

He set his glass aside and stood, slowly approaching the demon and wrapping his hand around Crowley’s on his glass. He looked up, startled, as the angel gently removed the glass from his fingers and set it aside. “What-” he started to protest, but there must have been something on Aziraphale’s face that stopped him.

Without letting go of his hand, Aziraphale pulled Crowley to his feet and led him into the middle of the room. He wasn’t quite sure how the moves went, but he decided to just listen to the music and do what felt right. He placed Crowley’s right hand on his hip and rested his left hand on the demon’s shoulder, keeping their other hands clasped together.

The demon’s eyes widened slightly as Aziraphale began to gently sway with the music, gazes still locked. They rotated in the room, each barely moving their feet as they did. Aziraphale couldn’t look away from his companion.

_And I am not worthy,_

_I am not worthy of this._

Crowley’s expression was mixed between confusion and bliss. “What are you doing?” he finally asked, voice barely above a whisper. His hands were trembling.

“Dancing,” Aziraphale said just as quietly, guiding their gentle movements.

_Stay with me, don’t let me go;_

_Because there’s nothing left at all._

The light dimmed as the lightbulbs slowly burned out one after another. Aziraphale blinked and there were suddenly flickering candles lining the room, illuminating them with warm, flickering light.

“Sorry,” Crowley mumbled, cheeks pink.

“No matter,” Aziraphale hummed. “The lights are replaceable.”

“Will the candles hurt your books?”

“No.”

_I can hear the voices haunting,_

_There is nothing left to fear;_

_And I am still calling,_

_I am still calling to you._

Crowley’s hand twitched, pulling the angel until their chests bumped. They still did not break eye contact, though gold had completely consumed the white of the demon’s eyes. “Beautiful,” Aziraphale breathed, and through their contact he could feel Crowley’s heart skip a beat.

_Stay with me, don’t let me go;_

_Until the ashes of Eden fall._

There was a faint _frush _sound and Aziraphale’s wings were curled around them. The tips of his feathers brush Crowley’s arms and soon the demon’s black wings had wrapped around them as well, holding him even closer against him. Aziraphale could feel the very ends of his partner’s primaries trailing along his spine.

_Why can’t I hear you?_

_Stay with me, don’t let me go._

“I love you,” Crowley murmured. His eyes glinted with a touch of fear and his grip on Aziraphale tightened.

_Stay with me, don’t let me go._

Aziraphale smiled. “I love you too.”

_Until the ashes of Eden fall._

Crowley’s lip twitched and he looked as if he couldn’t decide between smiling and crying.

_Heaven above me, take my hand._

Aziraphale tilted his head up and tenderly pressed his lips to Crowley’s. The demon sighed, all but melting into him as their hands finally parted and they wrapped their arms around each other as they kissed. Serenity filled the angel; he felt more at home here in his demon’s arms than he could ever remember feeling in Heaven – or anywhere else.

_Shine until there’s nothing left but you._


	2. Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... sorry not sorry.
> 
> Content warning for this one.

He was gone. He was gone and there was nothing Aziraphale could do about it. There would be no daring rescue from Hell, no search for someone to possess, no offer of sharing his corporation until they could find Adam and see if he could separate them again.

Crowley was gone, and Aziraphale was alone.

The worst part is he didn’t even know how it happened. He’d been in the bookshop, reading Hamlet again, when he felt the urge to call Crowley. Right _now_. He startled himself with how quickly he was out of the chair and dialing.

There was no answer.

Something was horribly wrong. 

It had taken Aziraphale most of the day searching SoHo to find his demon.

He saw the Bentley first, parked inconspicuously at the entrance to an alley. Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief and rushed over; he knew Crowley wouldn’t be far.

He wasn’t.

Further into the alley was a puddle. What looked like a puddle, anyway. There was a terrible burnt smell in the air.

Aziraphale saw the cross next, painted onto the wall above the puddle with a small prayer. The faint remains of something holy, a blessing, tingled against his skin.

The dots connected and Aziraphale’s knees gave out, sending him stumbling into the wall and sliding down beside the mass of goo and ruined clothing. Now that he was next to it, he could see the cuff of Crowley’s skinny jeans peeking out of the edge.

The world spun and closed in around Aziraphale. He couldn’t see, could hear only a deafening rushing; his whole body felt heavy and light, numb but filled with pain. He gasped, struggling to draw in air around the agonizing scream forcing its way up his throat. It came out as a keening wail, the sobs following quickly behind to keep the angel from breathing.

Was the world ending? This was how it had to feel. How could the earth keep turning when Crowley was gone?

He didn’t know how long he was there; didn’t know if the residents of this cursed place could perceive him or not. He didn’t care. He didn’t know anything beside his grief for a long time.

When Aziraphale finally returned to himself – at least enough to be aware of his surroundings again – it was dark. Whether it had been hours or days was a mystery to him. It didn’t matter. There was nothing left in the passage of time for him.

He gently brushed the now-dry ground with the tips of his fingers. A dark stain marked Crowley’s final resting place. A dark stain, and Aziraphale’s heart.

His lungs felt frozen. The wracking sobs had stopped, but Aziraphale still couldn’t seem to breathe. He was numb.

What was there to do? The only things he could think of would merely destroy his corporation and send him back to Heaven. There was nothing for him there; only an eternity of misery.

Which was the same he’d have here.

The idea came to him in a creeping memory. Aziraphale stayed still for a long while, rolling the thought around in his mind as he stared at the stain on the ground. The small part of him that still had a sense of self-preservation screamed that Crowley wouldn’t want this, but eternity alone screamed louder.

He rose on surprisingly steady legs and began walking, though it felt more like drifting. The crowds of pedestrians – when had the sun risen? How many _times_ had it risen as he mourned? – parted seamlessly around him.

The office building stood tall and cold in the middle of the city. He hadn’t been here in years.

He hesitated only a moment, thinking about his book shop and the first-edition copy of _Hamlet_ that waited on his side table. But then Crowley’s face popped into his head, rolling his eyes as he agreed to help Hamlet along as a favor, just because Aziraphale liked it.

He entered the building and took the escalator down.


	3. Bullies - Supernatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Tumblr Anon: Ok hi, I love your stuff! I was wondering if you could write a fic where teen Dean is being protective of little Sam (no incest!). Like, Sam came back to the hotel that they were staying at after school and he was all sad and stuff, and Dean managed get him to tell him why, and Sam told him it was stupid, but Sam admits that some kids were messing with him. John thinks that it's a normal part of life and laughs. But Dean got mad and protective. I would also love if you'd put some fluff in there!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Bullying, fistfight, John in a shitty dad, Dean is a great big brother

It had been a long day. Sometimes Dean regretted dropping out of school; it wasn’t that he didn’t like learning, but dealing with all the _normal_ people and watching them live out their lives completely oblivious to what was out there took it’s toll. It got worse after his stint in the boy’s home, when John abandoned him there. Leaving was hard, but he couldn’t let Sammy grow up with their dad alone.

Now that he wasn’t in school anymore though, John would either drag him around hunting or leave him to babysit Sam. The latter usually meant he was at the library, staring at books until the words floated off the page – and then a little bit more.

At least at school he got breaks in his reading.

By the time Dean got back to the motel John had chosen for the boys he was bone tired and wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower, drink some stolen beer, and pass out. Before he could do any of those things, however, the motel room door opened and Sam slipped in. His backpack thunked to the floor and he shuffled into the kitchen to rifle through the fridge.

“Hey Sammy,” Dean greeted, immediately putting on a smile for his younger brother.

“Hey,” Sam grunted.

“How was school? Did you pass your test?”

Sam dragged a soda and leftover mac ‘n cheese from the fridge and shrugged. “We won’t get them back until Friday.”

Dean’s alarm bells started going off. Sam was refusing to make eye contact, instead staring at the floor while he heated up his dinner and kicked off his shoes. Rather than tuck them under the table he left them sitting in the middle of the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, dropping onto the couch next to Sam.

“Nothing,” Sam said.

The older Winchester nudged him. “C’mon, Sammy. I know something’s up. Did you miss an assignment or something?”

Sam shook his head.

Dean waited another moment before poking him. “C’mon,” he urged.

Sam wavered for another moment before slumping back. “Some kids at school were giving me a hard time. It’s not really a big deal though. I can handle it.”

“What, were they hitting on you? You know how to fight.”

“No,” Sam said, still not looking up.

“What was it?”

Sam stayed quiet, poking at his food and twitching one shoulder. “They were just saying some stuff. It’s stupid. I’ll be okay.”

“You know you can tell me,” Dean hedged, but Sam finally looked up only to glare at him.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I can deal with it.”

Dean held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. But if you want to, you can talk to me.”

“I know,” Sam said. He turned the TV on and sat back to eat his dinner in sullen silence while Scooby Doo played in the background.

His own day now far from his mind, Dean made an excuse and slipped outside to find a payphone.

“Hello?” John’s gruff voice answered after the second ring.

“Hey Dad,” Dean said, relieved their father had answered for once.

His voice instantly tightened. “What’s wrong? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, we’re okay, it’s just-”

“You know not to call unless it’s an emergency, Dean,” John scolded, and Dean flinched even though his father wasn’t there. “I’m trying to work.”

“I know, Dad, but Sam-”

“Is he okay?”

Irritation prickled up Dean’s spine. He wanted to snap that if John would let him finish his _damn sentence_ he would find out so much sooner, but years of drilling obedience and respect shut that thought down. “He’s having some trouble with kids at school.”

“He knows how to fight. He can take care of himself.”

“They didn’t beat him up; they’re picking on him. He won’t tell me what they said but he’s pretty upset.”

John snorted. “You called me for a couple of middle school bullies? Dean, bullies are part of growing up. Sam’s fine.”

“But-”

“Enough, Dean,” John said, voice returning to drill-sergeant mode. “Don’t call me again unless somebody’s dying.”

The line went dead and Dean grumpily slammed the phone back on the hook. “Not like you’d pick up if we were,” he muttered.

Sam was at the tiny desk scribbling in a workbook when Dean got back.

“I got ice cream,” Dean held up a grocery bag. “Your favorite!”

Sam glanced up and offered him a weak smile. “Thanks.”

Dean peeled the lid off and snagged a pair of spoons before leaning against the wall by the desk and offering his brother the carton and a spoon. Sam accepted, and the pair shared the ice cream in silence for a while.

“I was thinking maybe I can walk you to school tomorrow,” Dean said, going for nonchalant. “I could use the break from research, and-”

“I don’t need you to look after me, Dean,” Sam said irritably without looking up from his homework.

“’Course you don’t,” Dean said, “but I’m still going to.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Hey,” Dean lightly thumped the side of his brother’s head with his spoon. “Don’t give me that attitude. I’m your brother. It’s my job.”

“Yeah yeah,” Sam leaned back in his chair with a sigh and met Dean’s gaze. “I’m just being stupid. I can deal with it.”

The brothers stared at each other for a few more moments before Dean shrugged and dropped his spoon on the table. “If you say so.” He pushed off the wall, ruffled Sam’s hair around the younger boy’s attempts to ward him off, and headed for the bathroom. “I’m going to shower and go to bed. Wake me up before you leave.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Sammy.”

\----------

Dean waited just long enough for Sam to get around the corner before throwing on the first set of clothes he could find and following him. He was careful not to let his little brother catch wind of him, but close enough to hear Sam saying good morning to a little old lady sitting at a bus stop.

“Hey!”

Dean flung himself against a brick building, hiding behind a trash can, but the voice wasn’t talking to him.

“I said hey! Samantha!”

Dean ground his teeth and forced himself to wait. He peeked around the garbage and saw Sam at the far corner of the building, shoulders hunched and head down as he picked up his pace. Three kids surrounded him, coming from the side of the building Dean couldn’t see.

“Where’s your mommy, Samantha?” One of the boys taunted, jabbing him in the ribs.

Sam said nothing.

“Don’t you know?” another boy, the one who’d called out first, sneered.

Sam still didn’t reply.

“Bet his daddy’s downtown getting’ drunk while she’s off screwing an entire-” the kid didn’t get to finish his sentence, since Sam’s fist got in the way.

There was suddenly a lot of shouting and scrambling and Sam’s backpack ended up in the middle of the street while the first boy pinned Sam against the sidewalk and the other two started kicking him.

“Hey!” Dean shouted, sprinting down the sidewalk.

The kids scrambled back before he even got there, their leader kicking Sam once more in the head as a parting blow.

Dean managed to catch him and twisted his arm behind his back so he couldn’t escape while he helped Sam up. “You okay Sammy?”

“Sammy?” one of the other boys, who were both standing a safe distance down the sidewalk, snickered. 

Dean pulled his captive’s arm a little tighter and the boy cried out.

“I’m fine,” Sam sniffed, wiping blood off his face and avoiding his older brother’s gaze.

“What are you kids doing ganging up on my brother?” Dean asked his captive, twisting his arm.

“Ow ow ow!” he shrieked, standing on tip-toe and leaning forward to try and escape.

“I said,” Dean pressed harder and the kid screamed, “_why are you picking on my brother_?”

“He started it!” the boy wailed.

“Try again.”

“Let him go!” one of the other boys shouted, taking a brave few steps back towards them.

Dean only had to shoot him a glare to quell the moment of bravado and the kid shrank back.

“Mighty brave of you, taking on a small kid three vs one,” Dean said. “Don’t think you can beat him on your own?”

The kid squirmed. “I can take him with my eyes shut!”

Dean surveyed the group. All three bullies were sporting bloody faces and it looked like the first one Sam punched had a broken nose. He smirked.

“Let him go, Dean,” Sam pleaded. “We’re going to be late for school.”

“No,” Dean said. “I have a better idea.”

He spun his captive around and shoved him towards Sam. “You can take him with your eyes shut, huh? Go ahead and do it, then. Just you two.”

The boy rubbed his arm, glaring at Dean and his brother. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Prove it then.”

“Dean…” Sam said.

Dean took his brother’s backpack. “They’ve gotta learn not to mess with you,” he said.

Sam grimaced but lifted his hands into a half-hearted fighting stance.

The bully snickered and lunged forward. Sam danced to the side and caught the other boy in the shin. He yelped but spun around and swung a fist at Sam’s head. Sam easily blocked it and landed a firm blow to the kid’s ribs. Dean heard a distinct crack.

The boy’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he doubled over, wheezing and cursing.

“Bryan!” One of the other boys shouted. “Kick his ass!”

Sam looked up at Dean, who shrugged. This was up to the kid now.

“Get over here and help me!” the bully Bryan snarled.

The other two boys charged, and Dean folded his arms and leaned against the wall. Sam smoothly ducked around their attack, tripping one and sending the other careening into his downed friend. They bounced up and came again. Sam’s face set in determination, and within a few swift jabs and no small amount of crying, the bullies were backing off, trying to catch their breath and one holding the side of his face.

“Freak,” Bryan called over his shoulder as they ducked around the corner and vanished.

Sam slumped. “I’m going to get in trouble,” he said as he shook out his hand.

“Let me see that,” Dean said instead, snagging his brother’s hand and examining his knuckles. One had split and was oozing blood. “Not bad,” he smiled. “Why didn’t you lead with moves like that?”

The younger Winchester tugged his hand out of his brother’s grip. “They insulted Mom,” he said.

“I heard.”

“The school is going to be mad.”

“Why? We’re not on school property, are we?”

Sam shook his head.

“Then they can suck it. Dad will be back soon and we can move again. Besides, those kids had it coming.”

“Yeah.” Sam picked up his backpack and brushed it off. “I gotta go.”

“Hey,” Dean grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “You did good, Sammy. I’m proud of you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Sam’s lips. “Thanks Dean.”

Dean pulled Sam into a hug. “Any time, Sammy. See you tonight.”

“Yeah,” Sam said again, waiting one more moment before pulling away and waving as he ran off.

“Love you kid,” Dean murmured as he watched him go, then headed off to find those kids and teach them a lesson of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, please drop a comment! Comments sustain me. 
> 
> If you _didn't_ like this chapter, please leave me some constructive criticism so I can improve! 
> 
> Please come visit me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/flywolfwriting) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/heather_wolffe)!


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